


Locked onto My Soul

by pixie_rings



Series: Per Ardua Ad Astra [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, allura probably has them too but shiro can't read minds, give them a minute, relieved-you're-alive sex, shiro has feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 03:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7558735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rings/pseuds/pixie_rings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro makes it back alive. They're both relieved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Locked onto My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally my first het porn since 2007. These two have driven me to it. *throws back whiskey with a grim look at the barman*

Allura intercepts him before he can even reach the bridge. She looks desperate as she strides towards him, a woman with purpose. The Black Lion had limped back to the Castle of Lions, dented and scuffed, and now all they can do is wait for the castleship's repair bots to deal with her. As for her Paladin, however...

Allura pushes him through the door, tears his helmet off and tosses it aside, and drags him effortlessly into a kiss. Her lips are frantic, terrified, relieved; how she can fill one kiss with so much raw emotion is beyond him, but he tries to give back as good as he gets, wraps his arms around her, pulls her close against him. He crowds her in against the wall, forces his leg between hers, hears her gasp into his mouth as she licks her way in, along his teeth, like he's the last thing she ever wants to taste.

“Your armour's in the way,” she huffs, pulling back in annoyance.

“Well, let's get rid of it,” he says easily, tugging his breastplate over his head and casting it away, careless. She reaches behind herself, pulling down the zip of her combat suit (or what passes for a zip on Altea, anyway), not even attempting to tease today. That's when he realises the door is still open. He presses a hand to the lock just as he hears his name from somewhere down the corridor (sounds like Keith) and his door slides shut, locked tight with a hiss and a click.

Allura breathes a sigh of relief, her suit pooling just beneath her shoulders, interrupted.

“That was far too close,” she says. He bites his tongue to keep the words in – he doesn't want to bring up this unnecessary secrecy right now, not when he's half-hard and _needs_ her like this. He pulls her back against him, kisses her again, tugging at her bottom lip with his teeth. She whimpers at that, slipping her hands beneath the shirt of his undersuit, trailing her fingers across his skin, up to his chest. His own hands slide her suit further down, freeing her breasts, and his mouth leaves hers to travel up her ear, sucking the point. That, of course, gets him a full, throaty moan: her ears are so sensitive, and he smiles at her reaction.

She pushes him away, panting now, face flushed and eyes half-lidded and sultry. “Strip,” she orders, and he is more than happy to obey, tugging off his shirt and shedding the last pieces of his armour and undersuit until all he is wearing is his boxer briefs. He can't help but sigh with relief now his cock doesn't feel quite so confined. She looks him up and down, her gaze lingering on his erection, and steps closer, cupping him just to let out a soft breath of laughter at his groan. He doesn't resist when she pushes him towards his bunk and down onto it – though, knowing how strong she is, he thinks he probably wouldn't have been able to anyway – and watches as she finally peels the rest of the combat suit down and off, revealing her hot, dark skin and curves he itches to touch. Her earrings are abandoned on the table and finally she's back in his arms, straddling him, wet against his still-clothed erection.

“Shiro,” she pleads, her voice smoky. She yelps when he flips her over, underneath him, which earns him a narrow-eyed look that tells him she is very unimpressed.

“Whoops,” he says, grinning. His right hand, cool metal against burning skin, trails down, between her breasts, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Her legs fall open, he leans down to take the peak of one of her breasts in his mouth, and rolls his tongue over her nipple as his fingers trail over her clit. Her moan is sublime, her arch perfection, her wetness slipping against his fingers as he delves deeper, sliding past her folds and into her.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” she gasps, trembling as he plays her cunt, in and out, knowing exactly what she likes, how and where. Usually, he prefers using his left hand, to feel her heat around his fingers, but the cold metal makes her writhe so gorgeously. He's painfully hard, the front of his boxer briefs wet with precome, and God, he just wants to be in her so _badly_. His lips leave her breast, travel down, tasting her skin, and her hands go to his head, forcing him to get there faster. He chuckles, flattens his tongue and licks up from where his fingers disappear inside her to her clit, sucking hard. Her responding giggle is cut short by a deep moan, her thighs tightening, and he knows she's close from the way she's trembling.

He presses his fingers up, forcefully flicking her clit with his tongue, her nails dig into his scalp and she comes, arching high off the mattress and against his mouth, crying out brokenly. He sucks one last time, slips his fingers out and licks her juice off them.

“I really hope this doesn't screw with my joints,” he muses, flexing his fingers. She laughs breathlessly, boneless, coaxing him back up by taking his chin between her thumb and forefinger.

“I would suggest getting it seen to,” she says, “but I fear it would lead to embarrassing questions.” She pulls him down into a kiss, humming at her taste in his mouth, and her hands travel down his back, exploring the ridges of muscle until they get to his ass. She slides her hands beneath the waistband of his underwear, cups his buttocks, squeezes, clearly enjoying herself.

“Why, Princess,” he says, between kisses, “if I didn't know any better, I'd say you only want me for my ass.”

“It _is_ rather lovely,” she admits. “But I do like your cock as well.”

As if to underline her statement, she slips his boxers off and wraps a hand around his erection, slowly dragging her touch along his length just to enjoy his broken groan. She thumbs the head of his cock, nipping his throat, tasting him, biting possessively – he covers his neck all the time, she can leave as many marks on his pale skin as she likes. Her legs, lithe and powerful, wrap around his waist and she pulls him closer, smirking, guiding him to her entrance with a gentle squeeze of her fingers.

He lines himself up with her cunt, holding his weight on one arm, and plunges in in one fluid motion. His cock is sheathed from tip to root in delicious, hot flesh, his forehead pressed against her neck as he struggles to keep himself still. Beneath him, she whimpers, legs tightening around him, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Move,” she hisses, clenching down on him. “Please, _move_.”

He's so grateful she's demanding it, because he doesn't think he could have held back any longer. He draws back, out until only his tip is still inside her, then pounds back in. Quickly he finds a rhythm, one that has them both moaning, rutting against each other, desperate for it. She feels so good, clenching around his cock, driving him closer to the edge with every thrust. As his hips piston in and out, he trails his tongue along the shell of her ear, sucking on the tip, gasping her name like a prayer. She moans his, meeting his thrusts measure for measure, slipping in and out of Altean.

He knows when she's getting close, her moans breaking, her movements becoming erratic. With one arm around her waist, steadying her, her skin sliding against metal, he reaches the other between them and begins toying with her clit, feeling himself move inside her. It's just what she needed, it seems, as she stills, head thrown back, back off the bed and cunt tight around him.

“Shiro-!” she cries, her nail raking welts down his shoulderblades. Her core quakes, pulsating along his whole length, and that's all it takes for him to take a final thrust, going rigid as he comes, deep inside her.

“Allura...” he groans hoarsely, riding the aftershocks as she tightens around him one last time, taking everything he has to give.

She takes his weight as if it's nothing, legs falling loose around him. They gasp for breath in unison, hearts pounding, weak from it. Finally, he finds the energy to raise his head.

She gives him a soft, satisfied smile, her hair a messy white halo, her face and ears still flushed. Allura is always beautiful, but afterglow particularly becomes her. And knowing that he brought her to it... It's almost overwhelming. He kisses her, slowly, languidly, running his hand along her side from thigh to breast. She purrs into the kiss, her fingers finding and tracing every scar across his back.

They both know, however, that basking in post-coital bliss isn't something they can indulge in just yet. There's a debriefing to do, work to be done on the ship, the Black Lion's repair to be overseen. Thinking of it almost makes the kiss turn sour.

“Don't think about it,” she murmurs against his lips, demonstrating her almost uncanny knowledge of his mind. He peppers kisses along her jaw, moving just enough to slip his softening cock from her.

“Can't exactly help it,” he mutters, sighing. She draws patterns with her finger in the small of his back, rubs her leg against his.

“I know,” she says, “but we still have a moment or two.” She sighs in turn, cupping his cheek. “I'm just glad you made it back to me again.”

His eyes fall shut at her touch, and turns his head to kiss her palm. “I'll always try to,” he says, because he can't say he always will. That would be a lie, an empty, useless lie, and neither of them need that. Let Lance and Keith have their whirlwind teen romance with the high emotions and the intensity and the sheer need to _feel_ everything at twice the human average – there's no room for that between Shiro and Allura. They're both people who have seen the price of war, and seen people they love pay it.

Lies would get them nothing but sorrow. Truth brings them... perhaps not fortitude, but understanding.

They stay like that a moment longer, Shiro's head on her shoulder. He breathes in her scent, something floral that he has no name for, dreamlike, that mingles with the scent of sex and her skin. It's soothing.

 _“Quiznak,”_ she mutters. Shiro cracks an eye open, and he can see her earrings flashing on the table. “Duty calls,” she says, sounding resigned. He's half-tempted to keep her from getting up, keep his arms around her waist and hold her close, but he knows that would be an exercise in futility. He rolls to the side and watches her get to her feet elegantly, her hair still half in its bun, her inner thighs glistening. She really is beautiful.

She puts her earrings back on with a sigh. “Yes?”

There's a brief exchange, presumably with Coran, and she lies easily, telling him they were looking over the Black Lion's damage. Once the communication is done, she sits back on the edge of the bed, running a hand down his chest.

“Rise, my Paladin,” she says, smiling slightly. Her cheeks turn slightly pink, as if she's embarrassed by her own words. Shiro smiles back, and maybe his own face is colouring a little too, but whose wouldn't, when looking at someone so breathtaking?

He sits up, watches her fix her hair, admiring the contrast between the pure white and the warm brown. “I'm going to take a shower,” he says, “be back in a tick.”

She hums, smiling at the kiss she gets on the cheek.

It doesn't take them long to be dressed again, smart and proper, as if nothing has happened at all. Just a princess and a paladin, emotions buried beneath armour, both literal and metaphorical. She puts a calculated distance between them, and he wonders if her heart aches as much as his does, whenever they put on this ridiculous charade again.

He can't resist one last kiss, though, halfway along a corridor, a needed risk, his hands on her waist, hers on his shoulders. And that has to be enough, for now, as they don their roles again, and wait for the ship's nightcycle and each other's arms again.


End file.
